


To Loosen A Crown

by bethelson



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A Cursed Crown, And Owns A Crown, And Some Angst Sprinkled In For Fun, And There's A Tea Party With Narcissa, Becoming Acquaintances (but acting like best friends), Christmas Fluff, F/M, Forgiveness, Friendship Dramione, Gen, Growing Up, Healing, Hermione Shows Interest In Dark Artifacts, Jelly Slugs, Malfoy Wears A Watch, N.E.W.T.s | Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests, Nostalgia At Hogwarts, Overcoming Shared Trauma, POV Hermione Granger, Please Don't Repost, Post War, She Put A Ring On It, Snow, William Wallace Is Involved, Workaholic Hermione, be brave, dramione - Freeform, it's a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-01-24 13:29:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21339013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethelson/pseuds/bethelson
Summary: The first Christmas after the war is just days away, and it seems that the ones lost are weighing a little heavier on everyone's hearts. When Hermione crosses paths with Draco on the street, it is obvious that even he is affected. Compelled to give a little kindness, she sends him an anonymous gift.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 57
Kudos: 123





	1. Oxford Street

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to this absolute mess of a story. And by mess, I mean this was supposed to be a fluffy one-shot of Hermione giving Draco a Christmas gift, with snow and cute scarves and all around festive feelings. But no. That did not happen. And it's not even Christmas, what the heck.
> 
> In the process of writing this, I somehow created the most CONVOLUTED PLOT that I have ever created (background story at least) and I'm itching to take this same concept and make a whole other, much larger project out of it. Maybe someday I will get around to doing just that, but until then, this is all I've got.
> 
> I honestly never thought I would be writing fanfiction for Harry Potter, but here we are! This was not how I expected my writing debut on Ao3 to go, but alas, everyone must start somewhere. 
> 
> So thank you for coming, hope you stick around, and enjoy~

A trendy holiday tune drifted around the busy store and Hermione couldn't help but hum along as she flipped through a rack of clothes. Ginny was beside her, glancing into a mirror behind them as she tried on a hat made for the beach. The two were in high spirits as they enjoyed their time away from the boys, and Hermione was grateful her friend had come along to help her check off people from her endless Christmas gift list. Sighing, she slid over a green sweater, the hanger giving a slight screech, before she plucked a powder blue blouse from the rack.

"I'm not sure there's much here that Molly would like. It's all rather…our age, don't you think?" Hermione said holding the blouse to her torso. Ginny turned to her and slipped on a pair of large sunglasses while still wearing the large floppy hat, looking every bit like a fashion model.

"Well I'm finding loads I like," she replied and then struck a glamorous pose causing Hermione to laugh.

"Are muggle clothes always this fashionable?" the redhead asked her pulling the glasses from her face and wincing as they caught in her hair. Hermione swooped the hat off of Ginny's head to try on herself, leaning around her friend to glance in the mirror.

"Depends. Some things can be horrid and people still wear them anyway." She frowned at her reflection; it looked much more dazzling on Ginny. "There's a shop down a ways, they have all sorts of homeware. I wonder if they'd have something I could charm."

"Oh mum's been needing a new tea set. A complete one I mean," Ginny told her freeing her hair and putting the glasses back on the display. Hermione also sat down the hat and hung the blouse, and they squeezed past the displays and shoppers to the front.

The door to the shop chimed as they exited, crisp air blasting them. The street was filled with people and music, Oxford Street alive with a crowd eager to take advantage of the holiday sales. They passed by a short Santa ringing bells for charity and the smell of something sweet baking wafted around them. Despite the bright winter day, the lights strung above the street were lit and twinkly, making the atmosphere gloriously festive.

Hermione and Ginny meandered through the crowd with their arms linked until the homeware shop came into view. Then Ginny paused and let go to look into a nearby window displaying a winter line of jewelry. Hermione took the moment to pull out her shopping list, checking off Molly's name and writing ‘tea set’ next to it.

"Now that's the last face I ever expected to see wandering around muggle London," Ginny muttered as she came back to stand beside her. Hermione looked at her friend and followed her hard gaze into the crowd. 

There at the end of the street, was Draco Malfoy, dressed in a heavy, long coat opened in front to reveal a dark muggle suit. He was striding towards them, one hand in his coat pocket and the other turned up as he checked a gold wristwatch, oblivious to the two of them watching. Hermione thought he could pass very well as an everyday business man, with his sharp face and styled hair, his walk radiating that ever annoying aristocracy. He blew out a misty breath in the cold air, and then looked up right at them. Hermione watched the recognition cross his face and he stopped when he reached them.

"Weasley. Granger," he nodded in greeting, and it almost sounded like he was a little surprised. His expression wasn't hostile, but it wasn't pleasant either, and Hermione decided he looked more wary than anything as he tilted his head a fraction, his jawline sharpening at the movement.

"Malfoy," Ginny offered back and crossed her arms almost defensively. Hermione could sense the tension and decided to change directions.

"What brings you out to this part of London, Malfoy? I almost didn't recognize you dressed so...differently." He smirked at this and ran a hand down the front of his suit as if posing for a photo.

"Dashing, right? Had to blend in. I had business with a wizard at a nearby museum. Possible dark artifact that may have belonged to a set I'm collecting. No such luck though I'm afraid."

Ginny and Hermione exchanged a quick glance. "You still collect dark artifacts?" the redhead asked him. His smirk faltered.

"Yes. They don't belong in muggle hands, obviously. Can be quite unsafe. And the manor has wards in place for such things. Besides, even though they're dark, they are historical to our world."

"I suppose it's for the best then," Hermione sniffed and Malfoy nodded. He then looked them over, eyes darting between the two.

"I don't expect you both are also out and about doing the same."

"No, we are getting some shopping done. This is a rather popular area," Hermione told him, gesturing to the street and he looked around as if seeing where he was for the first time.

"I see. And am I to assume you are on break already?" he asked Ginny and she nodded, arms still crossed. "Then I will not keep you. Have fun with your...shopping. And I will see you both in June if not before."

"June?” Ginny asked and looked at Hermione.

“He means when we sit for our NEWTS,” the brunette told her and understanding dawned on Ginny’s face before she turned back to Malfoy.

“I’m shocked that you’d want to, honestly,” she told him and Hermione winced a bit at her friend’s brashness. Malfoy didn’t seem to care though as he shoved both hands into his coat pockets and sniffed.

“Yes, well, Mother thinks it’s important that I finish my education. Make it ‘official’,” he said rolling his eyes. Hermione couldn’t stop herself at the mention.

“How is your mother,” she asked him gently and his grey eyes met hers in a piercing way. She stiffened, expecting him to spit out that it was none of her business, throw out a retort about her being nosy, but instead he blew out a quick misty breath. She watched his demeanor become somber as he ran a hand over the back of his neck.

“She’s doing well. Better now that things are more...normal at the manor,” he replied.

“I can imagine,” Ginny muttered and Hermione elbowed her for being snarky. 

“Once again, I won’t keep you two. If you’ll excuse me.” He nodded a goodbye and moved past them and both girls turned to watch him make his way down Oxford through the crowd of jolly shoppers.

“How absolutely odd that whole exchange was,” Ginny said beside her. “He was rather, civil.”

Hermione nodded, letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and watched the fog it created spread in front of her. “He seemed different. Reserved. Almost sad.”

“Good. It’s always nice to see the privileged get their reality checks.”

“Lucius is still serving his probation with the Aurors. Do you think the Ministry will allow him time off for the holidays?” Hermione asked and Ginny linked their arms again, turning them both back around to head towards the shop.

"You might ask Harry about that. But honestly, I doubt it."

Hermione and Ginny didn't bring up their encounter with Malfoy once they'd arrived back at the Burrow. It wasn’t until well after dinner, when she was back home at Grimmauld Place, that she approached Harry in his office and asked about Lucius, who confirmed that the former Death Eater was likely not going to be given time off for Christmas.

“Why are you asking anyway?” Harry asked her as he sat at his desk reading over some documents. Hermione was tucked into a dark leather reading chair nestled between bookcases to his left, her pajama clad knees tucked under her chin.

“Ginny and I ran into Malfoy today while we were on Oxford Street,” she told him as she picked a stuck leaf from her wool sock. Harry put down his parchment and turned to her fully then, his dark hair askew from running his hands through it.

“Malfoy? As in Draco Malfoy?” She nodded and his eyebrows rose. “What was he doing in muggle London?”

“He said he was meeting with a wizard about something he was collecting. He was dressed in muggle clothes and everything. Was really strange seeing him wear a watch,” she told him with a smirk. Harry leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms as he stretched his feet, propping them on the arm of her chair. Hermione shifted to let him have more room.

“How did he seem?” he asked her after a thoughtful pause. 

“Really reserved. He was pretty polite to both of us, honestly. I can’t recall ever having such a normal conversation with him in all the time I’ve known him. He says his mother is doing well, by the way.” Harry’s expression warmed at the mention of the woman and Hermione continued. “But, Harry, he seemed so sad. I think he was trying to come off impassive but there was something about him that just-”

“I can’t change Lucius’ sentence, Hermione. He has to serve his probation in full,” Harry told her gently, seeing where she was going with the topic.

“But he has been nothing but compliant, surely there’s _something_ that could be done.” Harry shook his head, his eyebrows scrunched apologetically, and then his green eyes searched her face.

“I don’t think so. But, Hermione, why do you care so much? You don’t owe Malfoy anything.”

“I know. But it’s just who I am. And we all know what it’s like. What it’s going to be like this year...without…” she trailed off and shrugged, looking down at her socks.

“Frankly, I think it's for the best, if that’s your reasoning.”

“Harry.”

“I still can’t change anything, Hermione. But think about it. We all have to spend this Christmas without someone, and the Malfoys had a huge part in that. I’m at a point where I’m personally able to start forgiving them, but that doesn’t mean I think they don’t deserve what’s happening to them. Malfoy is very lucky things weren’t worse for him.”

Harry sat up and reached out a hand. Hermione took it and he squeezed a couple of times. “I’m sorry I can’t help you.”

“I understand. I feel a bit silly honestly, being so wrapped up in it,” she told him and he dropped her hand to turn back to his documents, but not without a smile thrown in her direction.

“You are too kind for your own good, Hermione Granger.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said as she slid from the chair and made for bed.


	2. The Crown and the Key

Hermione Granger _was_ kind, but she was also rather stubborn. And it was that stubbornness that had her strolling down Diagon Alley the next morning, in search of something particular. She found her way into Flourish and Blotts, the entirety of the bookstore decorated for Christmas in splendid garlands and wreaths. Candles floated gracefully around amongst the piles of books, enchanted like the ones back at Hogwarts.

She ducked under one as she entered and smiled at it, it’s flame flickering at her as if it were bowing in greeting. Attendants were busy around the shop as they sorted through the ever overflowing stacks and helped some wizards with their shopping. One of the attendants, a portly man with tiny square glasses and thin white hair, gasped happily as he caught sight of her.

“Miss Granger, what a pleasant surprise,” he chirped over his spectacles. Hermione smiled up at him as he descended from the second landing. “And what brings you by today?”

“Good morning, Mr. Spendell. I’m looking for something a little out of the ordinary. It might shock you,” she told him and he waved a hand at her jovially. 

“Let’s hear it, then, I’m prepared.” She paused for only a second, but steeled herself and lowered her voice a bit.

“I’m looking for a book on dark magical artifacts. I believe it was specifically a historical encyclopedia. With a purple spine,” she relayed to him and Spendell’s eyebrows shot up. If he was shocked he said nothing and simply pulled out his wand, tapping his chin with it in thought. He then turned and pointed it at a high shelf on the second landing. The books there shifted and rearranged until finally a large leather book floated towards them dodging candles on its way. It landed in his hands obediently, the leather rich and dark, and the spine a deep plum color.

“Ah yes, this is the one, I believe,” he mumbled as he peered at it through his glasses. He then handed it to her and she took it, immediately flipping it open to scan a page or two. The text had drawings of many different objects with their names and history written beside them. The annotations then indicated if they had been found, if they had been destroyed, and where they currently resided cited below it. The book, as she understood, was supposed to be charmed to update if any of its information changed. 

“Yes this is perfect, thank you.” She quickly handed him four galleons and made for her exit. “Have a wonderful day, sir.”

“Always a pleasure, Miss Granger,” Spendell called as she swept through the door with a wave.

***

Hermione didn’t waste any time settling into the book once she entered the muggle cafe she frequented just around the corner from Grimmauld Place. She was nestled in her favorite spot, the corner table near the back window, with a steaming latte in front of her as she flipped through the pages. She was correct in assuming that the majority of the artifacts that had been found resided currently at Malfoy Manor, the name in nearly every citation. After skimming the book for an hour or so, her latte long gone, she finally came across something promising.

The picture showed a medieval crown, its design almost celtic. Dark jewels were strategically placed and held with intricately woven metal. Looking closer, she could make out an odd indentation in the center; a missing space where something else was supposed to be, but too specific for it to be just another jewel. She ran her eyes over the information, her finger sliding across the page as she did.

_**The Obscurial’s Coronet**  
Early 13th century_

_This crown is believed to house the soul of an Obscurial. It is rumored that the Obscurial for whom the crown was intended lived many decades longer than usual, trapped by its purpose to suppress the powers of a young wizard, born within a noble house of non magical persons.The suppressed magic within the crown attracted an Obscurus, which eventually ended the life of the wizard once the crown was finally removed. The crown’s creator is unknown, and can only be removed once its partner, The Keeper’s Key, is placed properly, making this particular artifact a rarity. Its partner however, has yet to be discovered, making this Dark Artifact an incomplete set. Wearing the crown suppresses magic, causes extreme ailments and the degradation of sanity, and has killed 42 non magical persons, not including its original wearer._

_The Obscurial’s Coronet, 13h c, discovered 17th c, MALFOY MANOR_

The words “incomplete set” held her attention, and Hermione let out a long breath through her nose as she ran her hand over the page. She only had a hunch, but based on the fact that Dark Artifacts hardly came in sets in the first place, and the first half of this one in particular was residing at the manor, she was pretty sure Malfoy was currently trying to find the other half.

Marking the page, she pulled out a ballpoint pen and her muggle notepad, jotting down her thoughts to organize them. She knew that Malfoy had met a wizard at a muggle museum about an artifact. This led her to believe that it was possible the crown and its missing key were recorded in muggle history as well. She squinted at the crown’s picture again and frowned. Because the key had not been found, the book didn’t know what it looked like so there wasn’t a picture available for it. This gave her limited resources, and it was likely that Malfoy was in a similar situation.

However, there was one resource that Hermione had and Malfoy didn’t.

***

The library was just a couple blocks away from Grimmauld Place and wasn’t too busy, only a few students from the nearby university trickled in and out around her. It was almost dinner time when Hermione finally sat back in her chair and stretched out the pinch in her lower back, hours deep in information from surfing the internet and the library’s catalogues.

So far, she had found many crowns all across Europe that had seemed like they _might_ be the Coronet, but nothing definitive or similar to the drawing, and nothing at all on crowns with special keys. Glancing at her watch, she felt a bit frustrated at the lack of progress made. Determined not to have wasted her time, she clicked for the catalogues again and did a quick search for notable medieval men who had been ostracized or disowned. 

Several articles entered her queue and she scanned over them quickly. One titled _The Curse of Kilbane, the Hidden Baron of Ayrshire_ stood out amongst them, and her chest fluttered hopefully. She opened the article and did a quick skim, jotting down the title for later reference. The article read that a Baron in Scotland named Berewyk Kilbane, the first grandson of a noble family, had been forced into solitude since the age of seven. The only reason the article stated he was hidden was because the family believed him to be cursed. To the everyday reader, the details came off as medieval superstitions, but to a witch or wizard, it was obvious the strange occurrences the family of young Kilbane experienced were that of a magical explanation. 

As she scrolled, a scan of a painting appeared on the screen, and Hermione paused to stare at it with wide eyes. The painting was of a family of four, the adults decked in the finest attire as they posed for their portrait. A young boy and girl sat at their feet, equally extravagant, but it’s what the boy was wearing that had her buzzing with triumph. On his head, was a crown, one with dark emeralds placed between carved, woven gold and silver. There, in the center of the crown, surrounded by dark curls of hair, was an indentation as if something were missing. 

Hermione sat back in awe, silently revelling in her discovery. Glancing down at her book, it was obvious that they were the same crown. Looking over the painting again, a caption below it read, “Kilbane sits with mother, father, and sister, Christine Kilbane, for the only known family portrait of them all. All other paintings of the family exclude him.” Hermione frowned at that and looked at his face. Even as he posed formally, there was a deep sadness to his expression, and she couldn’t help but resonate with him some. To know that he was hidden away and given a terrible fate, solely for being a muggleborn, she could sympathise if only a bit. 

She wondered briefly if Malfoy knew the history, if he thought about it on a deeper level, or if the Coronet was just another treasure to him. Something mysterious and beautiful to add to his collection. She wondered if Berewyk Kilbane’s soul was really trapped inside and if Malfoy knew there was a lonely, tortured person eternally on display in his private museum. She sighed heavily and shook her head. In all honesty, if she knew anything about the Malfoys’ history, it was likely that wasn’t the only trapped soul in the manor.

Opening another search, she looked for Christine Kilbane, the only other name given, and found much more information on her than her brother. Christine lived a long life, had a couple of sons, and was part of a rather historical family tree. Hermione clicked on a link that opened up a few paintings of the woman in different stages of her life. She was beautiful, with ivory skin and dark eyes, but she also held an expression that seemed almost despondent. 

Hermione went back to the painting with the whole family and tried to find anything. _Something_. There was nothing that indicated a key. She looked at the father, who also wore a small crown, but it was much plainer in design and looked like it wasn’t the kind to be worn daily. Then she looked at the mother. Nothing spectacular stood out; a beaded brooch and some jewels in her hair, and a couple of rings on her hand.

Blowing a loose curl out of her face, she gave Christine another glance. She was so young that her face still had a roundness to it, accentuated by the bonnet she was wearing. She then noticed that the little girl was also wearing a ring, too large for her little fingers, and Hermione found it rather odd. Squinting at the screen, the details were a bit too obscure to make out what it really looked like, so she clicked back to another painting of just Christine, a bit older this time, and paused. 

The ring was again on her finger, a bit clearer in its shape this time and excitement began to thrum through her. She switched to another painting of Christine, this time significantly older, her hair greying and her face wrinkled, and again, she wore the emerald ring. In this portrait, it looked so detailed, she could make out the obvious shape of a triquetra made of woven gold, a round emerald in the center. Looking down at her book again, she would bet sixty galleons that it would slip perfectly into the indentation.

The key wasn’t a key at all, but a ring. 

Hermione felt her adrenaline buzz at the discovery, her fingertips flying up to her temples excitedly. But then the library’s closing chime rang overhead, signalling to anyone still around that it was time to finish up and breaking her focus. She groaned a bit at the poor timing, but her empty stomach drove her to quickly print her findings. She then wrote down citations for everything before wandlessly sweeping her things into her bag and charging out of the library. The frigid air hit her like a curse, but did little to sober her enthusiasm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> Thank you dear readers for joining me for the second chapter. And to those of you who left me kudos, I'm sincerely touched. 
> 
> This chapter and the one after this were my hardest ones to write, because I had a hard time balancing along that fine line of going too fast with details, and dragging out info for the sake of plot. This story has become a bit of a personal challenge for me, as I'm still crafting my writing skills and always looking to push myself a bit. I've never truly braved a multichapter before and I'm using a lot of techniques I've learned to make this a joy for you all.
> 
> This story IS finished for those hesitant to begin reading an in-progress work, so please rest assured. I'm thinking it looks like it will be about five chapters, but no more than seven, and I will try to update twice a week. 
> 
> So again, thank you for joining me, hope to see you stick around, and until next time~


	3. Braveheart

Hermione eyed the portrait of Christine intently before placing it neatly with the rest of her loose papers onto the kitchen table. All of her research was strewn across it as she attempted to spread herself out a bit. Bringing her teacup to her lips, she sipped thoughtfully as she ran her free hand over the cover of a new book, one of which she had purchased just that morning from a muggle bookstore on her way home from a lovely breakfast with Ron.

Settling into the chair, she set down her cup and tossed the cover open, flipping pages one by one. It was filled with medieval history and focused on notable figures, heirlooms, antiques, really anything that was considered important to Scotland's narrative. She had just paused to read a passage when the swooshing pop of an Apparition filled the air. Kreacher had appeared on the table in front of her, her loose papers tossed across the table as a result, and she gave a startled yelp. 

“Kreacher. You shocked the daylights out of me,” she told him, a hand splayed on her chest. The house elf about faced and glowered, his ears drooping. Hermione stood from her chair so that she was eye level with him.

“Miss Granger,” Kreacher greeted and eyed the mess beneath him with contempt. “Kreacher is here for the morning cleaning.”

Before she could reply, he snapped his fingers and the broom popped out from the corner closet to begin its routine. She scrambled to gather up her things, stepping aside so the broom could sweep by her, and felt a bit disgruntled at being interrupted. Kreacher seemed to not care as he commanded the dishes to begin washing themselves.

“Would you like some help?” she offered, but he shook his head, his ears flapping with the motion.

“Kreacher needs no help. Kreacher has been doing this for centuries.” Hermione decided to not bring up the gap in time he pointedly decided to let Grimmauld Place slowly decay. But something popped into her mind at his words.

“Centuries?” she clarified and he rasped out a sound to confirm. “How old are you, Kreacher?”

“Kreacher has been alive for over six hundred years,” he drawled and her eyes widened a bit. But then she juggled her things to open the Dark Artifacts book to the page she marked.

“Have you seen this before?” she asked him pointing to the picture of the crown. Kreacher’s beady eyes glanced from the page to her face and then back down again.

“That’s a dark item, it is. Killed a lot of _muggles_,” Kreacher told her, his gravelly voice emphasizing the last word. “Was in the House of Black for many years.”

“The Black family had the crown?” she asked, her eyebrows lifting, and Kreacher hummed low in response. “But now it’s at Malfoy Manor.”

“Oh yes. Was bought once Lady Malfoy married.”

“But it’s missing the ring that goes with it. Does someone in the Black family still have it?” Hermione tried to keep her voice from sounding too hopeful. “Is it in this house, like the locket?” Kreacher’s little eyes didn’t leave her as he snapped for the mop to begin following after the broom.

“No such ring has appeared,” he rasped and she felt herself deflate. “Has been missing for so long, it has. Sir Merlin was the last to ever speak of it.”

“Merlin?” she questioned loudly. “Why would Merlin be involved,” she said more to herself than to Kreacher and watched a rag dry a spoon while she processed that information.

“Sir Merlin told Ophiuchus Black that the ring was with the muggles. He said, could only be possessed by someone with a brave heart.” Hermione’s head snapped up at Kreacher and he jumped, cowering slightly as if she were going to harm him.

However, she flashed him a bright smile and shoved her things back into her charmed bag, her mind whirring at what he’d told her.

“Thank you, Kreacher!” she professed as she darted from the kitchen. The house elf grunted and tossed a hand at her, but she was already throwing on her shoes and coat in the entryway.

***

Hermione landed on a snowy sidewalk, the tightness of Apparating leaving her skin warm against the crisp air. No one noticed her appearance as she immediately took off in a brisk walk down the street, only stopping momentarily to check the area. Once away from some of the taller shops and buildings, she could see it better.

Far above, on a distant cliff that overlooked the town, a large Victorian tower peaked high into a clear sky. The sandstone brick gleamed in the winter sunlight making it illuminate against the leafless trees surrounding it, the snow piled in all its crevices giving it an almost glittering appearance. The National Wallace Monument was a breathtaking building and Hermione recalled that her father once expressed regret that they had skipped a tour of it the last time they visited the area when she was little. After asking around, Hermione was able to catch a tourist shuttle that brought groups of people up the winding cliff to visit it, and as they approached, she could make out the statue of a knight looming in a carved alcove above the entrance brandishing a sword to the sky.. 

Purchasing her ticket, she followed the line through the entrance into a massive courtyard. Tourists meandered around taking pictures and reading pamphlets, and a few actors were performing near the doors to the monument itself, their Scottish accents floating around the area. Hermione snagged a pamphlet for herself and began to flip through is as she scuttled past the actors into the building. However, the main floor’s beautiful stained glass windows cast rich colors along the sandstone walls and she paused to take in the sight of it. The whole place was a spectacle really.

Ascending the stairs, she glanced over the pamphlet and read the information. The monument had been built to commemorate Sir William Wallace, the Scottish knight who led an army against the English for sovereignty. He was a hero to many, a symbol of bravery and freedom, and was a well known figure in European history. He was also rumored to be the son of Sir Malcolm Wallace, who was sequentially the son of Christine Kilbane.

Hermione smiled cleverly as she reached the top floor and approached the display that housed William Wallace’s sword, all the pieces falling into place. Kreacher’s words repeated in her mind, leading her to feel assured to a clue that Christine’s family tree wasn’t just a coincidence.

William Wallace was commonly referred to as Braveheart.

She admired the sword as it perched upright in its glass case, and wondered if there were any clues she could find here. Glancing left, a group of people cleared and a longer, lower glass case fell into her line of vision. She could see that there were many items displayed inside that supposedly belonged to the knight in his lifetime. Stepping closer, she could see they were all laid out and labeled on red velvet, many of them worn and rusted. She took her time reading each label, relishing in the history, but then her eyes swept to the next one and her heart skipped. 

There, on a velvet pillow, polished and pristine compared to the other pieces on display, lay a large triquetra ring with woven gold and a thick cut emerald. The label below it read _The Ring of Wallace_ and described it as an heirloom he wore on a string, for it was rumored to be haunted. However, it was recorded that he would often kiss it for good luck, believing that the spirit within would protect him. 

Hermione smacked both hands on the glass as she gawked at the ring, trying her hardest not to squeal in delight. She couldn’t believe that it was right there in front of her. Standing straight, she glanced around and slipped her hand into her coat to touch her wand, hovering the other over the glass where the ring shone. She could definitely feel the dark magic radiating from it, like a soft whisper tempting her to pick it up and put it on.

She shivered and stepped back despite her excitement, fully aware of how menacing cursed jewelry could be. Going over to a bench that faced the display, she snagged a pen from her charmed bag and wrote, “The Ring of Wallace” on the front of her pamphlet. She underlined it a few times so as not to be missed and, pen still pressed to the pamphlet, narrowed her eyes thoughtfully at the display. She couldn’t be the one to retrieve the ring. If _she_ was the one to do it, the book would update the information to say it was discovered and in her possession. And she would bet her whole vault at Gringotts that Malfoy also had the same book. If that information updated and he read it, it would spoil all her plans. 

With a sigh, she gave her watch a quick glance. It was well after lunch and she promised Ron that she would meet him at the Burrow before dinner. Reluctantly, she left the monument and the ring behind, Apparating the moment she was out of sight to the Weasley’s residence. As she made her way into the home, she couldn’t hide her giddiness at her discovery and the plan forming in her mind, a mood that her boyfriend did not miss as he greeted her with a kiss.

“What’s got you so excited,” he asked her as they plopped together on the couch. Hermione hummed cheerfully and swung her legs up over his lap.

“Oh, nothing,” she replied ambiguously and he gave her a suspicious look. “Just looking forward to Christmas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for such a late, late update.
> 
> When I said I would post twice a week, the universe must have heard me and laughed. Because oh my was it hard to get at least a minute at my computer.
> 
> This is the shortest chapter, but the next one is the longest I believe. This one also felt so info-dumpy to me, but again, I am trying to just stretch my skills and keep things simple in the process. And this is all a part of that convoluted back story I created for the Ring and Crown that I fully intend to expand on in a much bigger project that has already been outlined. 
> 
> But thank you so much for reading, and to those who left Kudos, Bookmarks, and Subscribed. It is a joy to write for you all.


	4. Happy Christmas

Christmas morning brought fresh snow to Wiltshire, the grounds of the manor covered in a sparkling white blanket. The pond in the courtyard was lightly frozen over and the overcast sky made the ice look almost black. Inside, a fire roared under a large mantel adorned with a lavish garland and ornaments. Draco lounged in the wingback chair beside it, his sock clad feet crossed at the ankles and his arms folded over his chest as he watched the crackling logs. The grand piano was charmed to play a carol, the sound of it floating throughout the manor, but he only half heard it.

Behind him, the familiar steps of his mother entered the drawing room. Her deep maroon robes swept into view as she joined him in the opposite chair, sitting much more primly than her son. Draco looked up at her and she smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. He tried not to dwell too much on how that had become more common these days.

“Happy Christmas, my love,” she told him and reached over for his hand. Draco unwrapped his arms and took it, his mother immediately squeezing his fingers affectionately, and he sighed quietly.

“Happy Christmas indeed.” He tried not to sound bitter, but he knew he failed because Narcissa’s smile faltered.

“Come. Let’s open gifts. Your grandmother has sent over a few things, and your father should be sending an owl any minute.”

She stood and tugged him up out of the chair, looking him over. She then pulled him into a tight hug. “I know, Draco. This is not the holiday we’re accustomed to, but things will go back to normal soon. Just be patient.”

Together they made their way into the entry hall. A large fir tree reached up to the second floor landing, ornaments and tinsel and candles sumptuously embedded in its branches. The gold star at the top glimmered between twin chandeliers. Christmas at the manor had always been a grand affair, the Malfoys being known for hosting extravagant parties for the winter holidays. The dinner was always splendid, and Draco had fond memories of the bustle of people celebrating while he and his friends ran around causing mischief and comparing their presents. Now, as he walked down the staircase with his mother on his arm to open gifts, with no guests or events expected for the evening, the day felt rather bleak. 

Draco first and foremost knew he was very lucky. Their home had been eradicated of the disease that had plagued them just the year prior. And even though some dark memories lingered within the shadows, most of his life had returned to a delicate normalcy. And he still had both of his parents very much alive and well, even if he hadn’t seen his father in months and had no indication of when he would. But he still felt bitter, and wronged, and left with the sensation that everyone around him was trying to just go on with this new life as if they had not just been through a war.

He sat on a chaise with his mother, lost in his melancholy thoughts as he sipped warm cider and watched her unwrap a gift from his grandmother, when one of the house elves brought him a small package. It was wrapped in a lovely blue paper with a white string in a bow and wasn’t very heavy. Looking it over, he raised a brow to the elf, confused. 

“Was brought in for Master Draco this morning, sir,” the elf said to him. 

“From whom?” he asked her, but she just handed him a rolled note before bowing and backing away. Draco sat the box on his lap and unrolled the parchment.

_It has been said that for one to possess the key, they must have a brave heart._  
Be brave, Draco.   
And Happy Christmas. 

“Who is it from, darling,” his mother asked, her new fur cowl held in her lap as she eyed his package in interest.

“It isn’t signed,” he murmured as he set aside the note and unwrapped the parcel. Inside, was a bag of jelly slugs, his favorite treat, and a group of papers. He pocketed the slugs with every intention of eating them right away and then flipped through the papers, reading them with furrowed brows. His eyes widened in realization and he suddenly shot up from the chaise, startling his mother.

“What is it?” she asked him alarmed and he turned to her with such a wide smile that she couldn’t help but smile herself. 

“Mother, when’s dinner?” he asked her.

“Six sharp, wh - Draco, where are you going?” she called after him, but he had already kissed her on the cheek and was bounding up the stairs two at a time, shouting an _accio_ for his coat as he darted for the drawing room to Floo.

***

Hermione was tucked between Harry and George on the couch with Ron on the floor in front of her. The three boys all had on paper Christmas hats and were singing off key to a tune she didn’t know. Ginny and Arthur were jigging dramatically in front of them while Molly played the piano. The atmosphere was gloriously festive.

Percy, Bill, and Fleur were planned to be around for dinner, and Charlie had sent his love from Romania with gifts for all and a promise to visit after the new year. 

Hermione clapped and cheered once the song concluded and Ginny bowed comically with her father. Ron had reached over his shoulder to hand her a licorice wand, which she gladly took, when a knock came from the front of the house. Molly and Arthur happily skittered off to see who it could be while Ginny joined her brother on the floor. 

“Do you think Fluer will be showing?” the girl asked them taking the licorice Ron was about to chew for herself. He shot her an annoyed look but let her have it.

“Dunno, but Bill says she’s downright glowing, whatever that means,” Ron replied and then it was Ginny who looked annoyed.

“It means she’s enjoying her pregnancy, Ronald. Honestly, you could act a little more excited, you’re becoming an uncle,” Hermione chided playfully and he leaned his head back against her knee to grin at her upside down, his paper hat tumbling to the floor. She swatted at his red hair and Harry reached over the take the licorice he just pulled out much like Ginny had. Ginny and him shared a look and pointed their licorice at each other in camaraderie, but Ron was not having it.

“Honestly, you lot have your own sweets let mine alone,” he complained as he clutched the bag to his chest. Just then Molly rentered the sitting room followed by the Lovegoods, both decked out in gaudy robes and festive paper hats. 

“Look who’s come to celebrate with us!” Molly exclaimed happily and everyone jumped up to great them.

“Happy Christmas!” Luna said to her friends as she pulled away from hugging Hermione. “Oh are those licorice wands?” she asked Ron who scowled and clutched the bag to his chest again, and the room burst out in laughter.

***

The day had been wonderful, and dinner was delicious. Hermione found herself lazily reading near the fireplace, her stomach stuffed and her cheeks warm from wine, while Harry and Ron played wizard chess. Luna and her father had already left, as well as Bill and Fleur, and Ron had been right; she _was_ glowing, her small bump the center of attention most of the night. Percy was was still around speaking with his parents in the parlor about work, and George had already retired to bed.

Her heart ached when she thought of the twin. He had been smiling and present with his family most of the day, but as it went on she could see him becoming more reserved. He had been this way for months, if she were being honest. She knew all the Weasleys were still mourning, Molly had excused herself more than once to not dampen the day with crying, but losing one’s other half was a completely different matter and she hoped George would be able to begin healing soon. 

And she had expected this Christmas would be a hard one, for everyone. How does one celebrate a family holiday post war? They were all still mourning so much. Hermione herself had been trying her hardest not to think of her parents and instead feel grateful that they were still alive somewhere enjoying their holiday, blissfully unaware that she was missing from their lives. Her chest began to feel tight suddenly at those thoughts, and she quickly shook her head to dispel them.

Hermione looked around the kitchen for a distraction, remembering how just the year prior, the home had been destroyed. She could remember Molly's heartbroken face as she watched it burn. But it was quickly rebuilt and the Weasley's moved forward. Hermione felt that, in a lot of ways, they all were in the middle of a similar process. Her eyes fell on her friends as Ron instructed a knight to batter Harry’s pawn. Both had lost a lot more than she, but they seemed to be making strides in the midst of their grief. She would be a liar if she said that she wasn’t a bit jealous, still feeling lost and out of place since the war ended; as if she were being constricted and unable to move on.

“You alright there, Mione?” Ron asked and she shook her head again to focus on him.

“Yes,” she fibbed. “Just a bit woozy from the wine I believe.”

“Want to head home then?” Harry asked her, looking rather miffed that he lost a game once again to Ron and not wanting to start up another. Hermione was about to say no, but a yawn came out instead, so she closed her book and nodded.

“Right, I’ll go let Ginny know I’m leaving then,” he told her as he left the kitchen. Ron reached out a hand to help Hermione up from her seat, a sweet half smile on his face. Hermione smiled back and took it, letting him pull her easily into an embrace.

“You sure you’re alright?” he asked into her hair and she let her shoulders sag with a heavy sigh.

“I suppose not,” she admitted, all her melancholy running through her mind again. She leaned back to look up at her boyfriend. “But I will be.”

He seemed to understand, because he nodded and swept a chaste kiss across her mouth, not pushing the topic further. Harry walked back in then, red lipstick smeared on the corner of his lips and also looking a bit woozy, though Hermione didn’t think it was from the wine. He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the fireplace. “Ready?”

The two burst into giggles, causing Harry to start and look over himself confused. 

“You got a little-” Ron started, but Hermione shushed him as she stepped around the table to the fireplace and reached into the pot on the mantel. 

“Let him find out on his own.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am _blown away_ but the amount of people finding interest in this story and leaving me love. Thank you all so much.
> 
> Here's a much quicker update to make up a bit for last time! I made the decision to break up chapter 4 into two separate chapters because it was honestly MUCH longer than the rest of them. And it keeps the pacing I'm looking for.
> 
> I just love the writing scenes for the Weasleys. Can you tell?
> 
> The next chapter has some time jumps, so heads up.
> 
> Until then~


	5. A Proper Goodbye

It was well after the new year before Hermione saw the Dark Artifacts book update its information. She had smiled widely at the new picture of the crown with the ring next to it and the updated annotation. She wondered briefly what hoops he had to jump through to get it, but it didn’t matter. He had completed his set, and hopefully, it had brought a little joy to his Christmas morning.

To keep everything anonymous, she settled on giving him just the clues. On Christmas Eve, she had tucked the Kilbane family portrait, the painting of Christine, and the pamphlet from the monument into a parcel, some jelly slugs thrown in for fun, and had sent it with a note by owl the following morning. She then pledged to not dwell on it any longer, instead enjoying the holiday with her friends despite the heaviness it brought. And frankly, once she noticed the change in the book, she had not thought of it since. Not until she was sitting in a seat at Hogwarts months later, her old Griffyndor robe over her day clothes, and Draco Malfoy sitting to her left.

The room was lively despite the early hour, conversations floating around the room. Mcgonagall was passing out charmed quills when he had swept in, tidy and put together in his old Slytherin robes, and Hermione felt her breath hitch at how familiar the whole scene was. Neville was in front of her next to Hannah Abbott, and Luna and Ginny behind. There were a few others from her year sprinkled throughout the Transfiguration classroom and mingled with the current seventh years, but Draco was the only Slytherin that had come back.

He smirked at her in greeting as he took the seat next to her and she smiled warmly back despite her inner panic. She chewed on her lip and squinted in front of her, trying to regain some focus to prepare to take her exam, but then he asked her something and drew her attention.

“Sorry?” she asked and he held a bag out to her.

“Jelly slug?” he offered again, and Hermione’s heart quickened. She looked up at his face, but he betrayed nothing. Just kept his features relaxed. Surely he didn’t know.

“Thank you,” she said as she gingerly reached into the bag and grabbed one. She chewed on it slowly, allowing her heart to settle. She was fine. Why would he suspect anything? He was just being generous.

“They are delicious little buggers,” he told her as he popped another one into his mouth and then slipped the bag into his pocket. “I have quite the weakness for them.”

“Yes, they’re your favorites if I remember correctly,” she said casually, but then momentarily cursed her quick mouth. He eyed her for a moment, his eyebrows scrunched curiously, but Mcgonagall had walked to the front of the room and motioned for them to begin their exams, the parchments appearing in front of them with a wave of her hand.

Draco sat next to Hermione in all three of their NEWTs that day, making her nervous he’d mention the gift, but he didn’t bring anything up. Only the occasional nod or smirk or glance. She felt fully in the clear as she meandered down a staircase and she stretched out her arms, releasing the tension that came with intensive schoolwork. There was two more days of NEWTs to go, and then she would be on her way to finally establishing her career in the Ministry. The proper way.

She walked down the hallway aimlessly, the nostalgia overwhelming, until she came to the courtyard near the Great Hall. The large tree in the middle was full and green, casting a serene shade over everything. A sweet breeze pushed into the hall, ruffling her robes. The school was quiet, only the sixth and seventh years still around to take their exams, and everyone seemed to be tucked away studying or resting. It was almost peaceful, but a brittle tension pulled at her chest, filling her with a strange sense of longing. 

Quietly, she stepped out into the courtyard and approached the tree, placing a hand on the bark. Closing her eyes, she tried to pretend that she was still a student, before the war. Before her final school days were taken from her to help her friends survive when they should have been making memories instead. And preparing for careers and graduating and growing up. She tried to picture herself in that very spot, fourteen and reading up on charms homework. Harry would be on the pitch, and Ron would most likely be sprawled out next to her chewing on a licorice wand, and everyone they cared about would still be alive and well.

With a sad sigh, she opened her eyes and looked around the courtyard again, the same, and yet so different, and then turned to head back into the hallway. But there he was, leaning casually against the entryway pillar with his arms crossed, a pensive look on his face as he watched her. She blinked but stayed where she was, just holding the eye contact. Then he smirked as the breeze ruffled his side swept hair, and he suddenly looked just like a kid again, the snooty Malfoy who teased and pranked and walked around like he was a king. Like he also wasn’t a part of a war that threw them all into the air and didn’t catch them.

“This is…_so_ strange,” she said finally, and he shrugged, looking off to the side.

“Which part?” he asked her, his voice floating across the courtyard easily, and it was her turn to shrug.

“All of it I suppose. I mean, doesn’t it feel like we’ve never left? Like it hasn’t been-”

“Over a year? And at the same time it feels like it’s been a hundred. Like we’ve been swallowed and spit back out in some strange upside down version of reality.”

Hermione nodded and pressed her fingers against her sternum, the tight feeling still there and making her shiver slightly.

“Why do you think that is?” she asked him quietly.

“You tell me, Granger. You’re the bright one.” 

She walked over to stand next to him in the entryway, their gazes never wavering as she approached. When they were side by side, she flashed him a cheeky grin to ease the heaviness.

“And don’t you forget it.”

For a moment he just stared at her as if she were the most confusing creature he’d ever come across, but then he puffed out a sharp chuckle and the tightness in her chest eased a little. She began to walk away and he pushed off the pillar to fall into step next to her, and together, they continued down the corridor. After a moment of comfortable silence, Draco cleared his throat.

"I've been curious," he began and Hermione stiffened slightly. This was it. She’d been caught. She kept her eyes forward, too afraid to give anything away as she held her breath in anticipation for embarrassment. "What do you plan to do once you're finished with your NEWTS?"

Hermione released the breath slowly in relief and glanced over to find him watching his feet. "I want to work for the Ministry. However, I'm not sure what branch yet. I want to wait for the results before I delve deeper into it."

Draco hummed in response. "I'm thinking the same. Only I'm sure I want to be a part of the International Cooperations."

"That’s quite fitting actually," she said conversationally, trying her best not to dwell too much on how strange it was that the two of them were chatting easily like old chums.

"You don't want to be an Auror, as well?" Hermione grimaced and shook her head. She had been offered the job with Harry and Ron, but she had other goals in mind.

"I'm a bit ambitious, I'm afraid. I had a plan in place before…" she gestured ambiguously in front of her, "everything. I want to stick with it as much as possible, despite what’s happened. I worked hard to take these exams. And when I’m finished with exams and establish a career, I have to focus on…" she trailed off suddenly and blushed a bit, afraid she'd gotten too personal. She carefully looked over at him to find she had his full attention, and he lifted his brow in interest.

"Focus on...?" he prompted, but she waved him off hoping he'd drop it. "No, go on, Granger."

She contemplated telling him. It would be good to finally tell someone. She had tried to bring the topic up to Harry and Ron before, but the timing was always awful. And she wasn’t sure how it may affect them. She had no personal ties to Draco, and he was in a bit of a similar situation. And it’s not like Draco would go around spilling her secret plans to her friends. Deciding, she took a breath and stood up straighter.

"My parents," she said, but it came out quieter than she meant and the words put a pit in her stomach. "I need to focus on finding my parents."

"They're missing?" he asked, genuinely confused and she nodded.

"In a way. During...well, when things were getting bad. I used obliviate on them and sent them away. They don't remember me, or who they were, and I intended it to be that way." Admitting it out loud didn’t make her feel any better like she’d hoped.

"But it's been a year since the war ended," he observed, a little shocked.

"Actually, almost two since I altered their memories." He tugged on his collar as he took in her admission and eyed her with a look of complete contemplation, as if he had to reevaluate the version of her he understood. She watched him swallow as he thought and then he let out a long breath.

"Why so long?" he asked her and she sighed sadly.

"There has been a lot happening. I just keep...putting it off. Like I said, I had a plan in place before. But there have been so many funerals and hearings, and restoring the school," she gestured to the ceiling. "And then it just seemed less important. Everyone is mourning someone. I just keep telling myself that I’m very lucky that they are alive and well, because it could’ve been much worse.”

They were both quiet again as they walked together, their footsteps rattling down the hall. She then heard him sigh and looked over to catch a glimpse of the Malfoy she had seen on Oxford Street back in December. Sad and worn out and lonely. 

“I haven’t seen my father in a year as well,” he said to her. “I also understand that feeling. That I need to be grateful that it wasn’t much worse. But it doesn’t make it easier.”

She felt her heart twinge at the sadness in his voice, despite privately thinking that Lucius got off rather easy for his crimes. “Does he write to you often?”

He nodded and looked at her, a melancholy smile on his lips, and she found it so strange being the one to witness this version of him, so open and vulnerable.

“It’s pathetic really, but sometimes I wish he’d send a howler just so I could hear him.” He tsked and ran his hand down his face, embarrassment peeking through. “Listen to me. I sound like a twelve year old.”

“It’s only right to miss your family. Part of the reason I think I’ve also put off finding mine is because I’m terrified that I won’t recognize them. I’m so afraid I’ll pass right by them on the street, won’t remember their voices or what they look like, and eventually not remember them just as much as they don’t remember me.”

They had come to the great hall then, its large doors open all the way to reveal an empty room. Both stood in the doorway, their eyes darting around a place where so much had happened. Where it had ended. Where they had been enemies, fighting on opposite sides. Hermione eventually found herself staring at the ground, at the place where _he_ had fallen, cold and dead, and her skin began to itch.

“The last time I stepped into this room,” Draco said in a smooth voice that echoed against the back wall and into the enchanted ceiling, “I was unsure and afraid.”

“And now?” she asked him, her eyes still lingering on that spot on the floor.

“Now I know where I stand, because I have to be brave.”

***

Draco had sat next to Hermione the next day as well, and they had chatted pleasantly between exams, but on the third day, Hermione was the only returning student in the room. When Flitwick had signaled for them to put down their quills, Hermione felt an enormous weight lift from her shoulders.

She was done. She had come into the wizarding world ready to give it everything she could, and she did. She told herself that no war would get between her and her studies, and she had been determined to follow through and properly complete her education. She could now confidently step away from Hogwarts, closing that chapter of her life with a sense of accomplishment.

After tea and pleasantries with Mcgonagall in her office, Hermione had bid the school a bittersweet goodbye, and headed towards Hogsmeade. From there, she Apparated home to Grimmauld Place, finding herself alone for the rest of the day. Harry and Ron had been appointed official Aurors at the anniversary of the war ceremony, so both spent a lot more time at work than their homes as of late.

Now in Harry’s office, Hermione had opened the windows to allow fresh summer air to circulate through the room while she reorganized some of the books on the shelves. Humming softly, she was completely focused on her cleaning and didn’t catch Errol fluttering in and perching on the back of Harry’s desk chair. Finally, he squawked impatiently causing her to jump and drop the book in her hand. 

“Sorry,” she told him as she removed the letter and gave him a treat. He quickly retreated clumsily out the window again as she turned over the letter and broke it’s seal. Molly had sent out pretty invites for Ginny’s graduation gathering, and Hermione assumed it was to be quite the surprise celebration. The parchment read that it would be held in ten days time, right after the girl returned home from her final day at Hogwarts.

Setting it under a paperweight on the desk so that Harry would see it too, she walked back to the shelf, snatching up the dropped book, but she paused once she noticed it was the Dark Artifacts encyclopedia. Her mind wandered to Malfoy, and how he wasn’t at the school earlier that morning taking another NEWT. It was a shame they didn’t have a proper goodbye, and though their new acquaintanceship was a strange one, it wasn’t entirely unwelcome. It was alleviating in a way, knowing someone who had been so cruel for so long was able to turn around and become decent.

_Because I have to be brave._

She smiled to herself and placed the book onto the shelf, wondering if her gift had been what spurred that particular change in him. Regardless, she wasn’t keen on asking and was thankful that over the last few days he never showed any indication that he suspected it had been her. Maybe not saying a proper goodbye was for the best. It would’ve left them with the feeling of expecting to meet again, and to converse again, which in turn would make it more likely for him to find out, leaving her embarrassed and unable to explain.

What would she even say?

_Oh sorry, I wasn’t able to get your father holiday leave from his probation, so that was the next best thing I could think of._

She cringed and stuck out her tongue with a little shake of her head. No it was definitely for the best.

***

Ginny’s party was lovely, and she was happily surprised to find all her loved ones at the Burrow waiting to celebrate her. Hermione received her NEWTs results two days after, and she was more than happy with them as she promptly applied for several positions within the Ministry. She was almost immediately accosted with many offers, some of which she hadn’t even applied for. After sleeping on it for a week, and discussing all options deliberately with her friends, she decided to take the job in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

Before the end of July, she managed to complete her first project, allowing Dobby to be recognized as a war hero. She gave Harry a copy of the official statement for his birthday.

But everything was a whirlwind from then, all of her friends busy in their lives and careers with not much time for anything else. But Hermione’s work ethic was on a much more rigorous level. It wasn’t until a few days before her birthday, while she and Harry and Ron were sat at the kitchen table in Grimmauld place eating a meal, did the boys let her know they were worried about her habits.

“But I’m so close to getting the proposal ready. There’s just not a lot of time for me to-”

“Hermione, if you don’t slow down and take a breather, you’ll keel over and then you’ll never get anything done,” Ron told her with a mouth full of food. She made a face at him and he shut his mouth to finish chewing.

“He’s right, though,” Harry chimed in. “You’ve been going nonstop for months. If you don’t take some time to yourself, you’re going to burn out.”

“Then maybe when I’ve finished with my project-” she tried, but Ron interrupted again.

“You’ve been working on SPIN…”

“SPEW.”

“...for a good month now. It can wait a few more days. Come on, Mione. You’re birthday is soon, let me take you out.” Hermione looked from her boyfriend to Harry, the man nodding in agreement. Finally, she put her fork down and sighed.

“Alright,” she muttered. “But just for my birthday. After that I need to get right back to it.”

Despite Ron’s excitement for their date, Hermione didn’t fancy another birthday coming and going. It was just another reminder of how she was putting off the ever pressing task of finding her parents. A task that she had yet to mention to her friends. She knew they would understand the basic principle, but there was so much more that complicated it. First and foremost, it gave her tremendous amounts of guilt. Guilt that she had altered their memories in the first place, despite the circumstances. Guilt that, even if she did find them, she would be uprooting whatever new lives they had built for themselves. And guilt that she knew she would be regaining her loved ones while those around her couldn’t.

This guilt kept her frozen in place, trying to bury herself in heavy amounts of work to stay busy and distracted. When work lulled, she spent her free time researching Dark Artifacts, the thrill of finding the ring still fresh in her memory, and played with the idea of maybe gifting more clues to her unlikely acquaintance this upcoming Christmas. But finally her birthday did come, and she was dressed up and on Ron’s arm as they were off to enjoy a nice dinner. She let him tell her about work, and how his house hunting was going with George, and they daydreamed about future memories they wanted to make together. 

Overall, the date was wonderful and she was thankful that the boys had been so adamant that she go. Her and Ron Apparated to Grimmauld Place after, both light headed from wine and dessert, and when they walked into the sitting room, they were met with loud cheers of surprise. All of her friends were crammed into the space, and someone had brought out a cake for her, and the little get-together had trickled into the early hours of the next morning before her head hit her pillow. So it wasn’t until she was rushing to get ready for work the next day that she saw it.

On her dresser, was a small present wrapped in decorous blue paper, a rolled up note tied neatly to it with a silk white ribbon. Finishing her hair into a ponytail, she plucked up the note and unrolled it.

_Now you won’t have to be afraid to look.  
Be brave._

She dropped the note and quickly unwrapped the little present, her heart in her throat, and gasped. Inside was a moving photograph, one with both her mother and father sipping drinks on the terrace of a restaurant. They were smiling in summer clothes and sunglasses, her mother wearing a fashionable hat, and looked just the tiniest bit older than she remembered. Her eyes began to sting as she watched the loop of her father saying something while pointing far off and her mother laughing. Flipping the picture over, _Brisbane, Australia_ was scribbled on the back in tidy, refined handwriting.

Just then Harry passed her open door, in a rush as well as he buttoned his Auror uniform. But then he backed up to eye her in the doorway. “You still here? You’re gonna be late.”

She looked up at him with wide, watery eyes and tucked the picture to her chest. He gave her a startled look.

“You okay? What’s happened?”

“Tell the Ministry I’m gonna need another day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again so sorry for such a late update.
> 
> I don't think I timed this well with the holidays and such, because I'm southern, and southern means family obligations during the months of November and December are non negotiable ***playful eye roll***
> 
> Regardless, I hope those who celebrated enjoyed their Thanksgivings, and those who celebrate other holidays within November had splendid times.
> 
> As some of you may have noticed by now, this story has not been very romantic. Please forgive me if that disappoints you. I wanted to just get my feet wet before I tackle something much bigger. I have tons of ideas for other stories, but I know my weaknesses as a writer, and I want to grow my skills first before I try the big kid stuff. You'll see in the final chapter that I intentionally left things a little open so you lovely readers can feel free to fill in the blanks with whatever type of scenarios your minds fancy.
> 
> In the next chapter there is a time jump, and we'll be back to Christmas after a warmer summer chapter. I hope to see you there at the end, and thank you all again for your comments, kudos, hits, subscriptions, all that jazz. It's all so very wonderful.


	6. Something Terrifying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This here is THE scene. The one that spurred this whole thing and became not only my first ever HP fanfic, but my first story here on AO3. I hope that it was worth the wait and that you find it as moving as my heart did while writing it.
> 
> I would like to dedicate this chapter to everyone who followed this story and encouraged me with kindness and love.

December 2004

Hermione tightened her scarf around herself, trying her best to fight the chill as she made her way down the street to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Snow blew around her in a flurry and coated everything in sight. Every shop she passed was decorated in charming garlands and wreaths, and some had charmed Christmas displays twinkling in their front windows. She smiled to herself at the festivity, but another icy gust made her quicken her pace.

She burst through the front door and hurried to close out the winter, sighing as the warmth of the shop stung her face. Wheezes was full to the brim with holiday shoppers, the whole place buzzing, and Hermione squeezed her way through the crowd in search of Ron.

“Hermione!” came a shout from above. Looking up she could see George leaning over the railing of the twisting stairs, an easy smile stretched across his face. A young Fred was peeking through the bars at his legs.

“Where can I find your brother?” she tossed up at him while giving a little wave to the toddler.

“He’s manning the cashier today,” he told her with a nod in the general direction and gave her a wicked grin. “Merlin be with him.”

Hermione snickered as she turned away, picturing her boyfriend in a panic behind the counter. And she almost laughed out right when she caught sight of him, looking a bit crazed as he swiftly tried to quell the long line. However, he brightened as she swept in beside him and kissed his cheek.

“I’m gonna get that git, I swear,” he told her handing the customer her change. “He only puts me here to watch me suffer.”

Hermione giggled and reached into her charmed bag. “I think it’s good for you. Keeps you on your toes.” She placed his lunch under the counter, a charm already in place to keep it warm until he had a chance to eat it. 

“I suppose you couldn’t spare some time to help out around here for a bit?” he asked her and she pretended to contemplate it, tapping her chin dramatically.

“Hm. I would love to, but I’m just _so_ busy today.” He paused counting some sickles to look at her in annoyance.

“It’s your day off, you have nothing happening today.”

“Precisely, and I’m super busy with it.” She kissed him on the cheek again and flounced away, waggling her eyebrows at him as she went. “Enjoy the stew!”

“Mione!” he called after her, but she just laughed and hurried out of the store, waving at George and little Fred as she left.

The snow was coming down a bit harder by that point, thick clumps of it dropping all around, and the sharp wind even seemed to hush to let it coat everything evenly. Hermione had her heart set on enjoying a nice cup of tea at the shop down a ways where she planned to lose an hour to a good book before heading home. But as she made her way down the street, she paused to look into a window display of toys and babywear, a couple of rattles catching her eye.

“Hello Miss Granger,” came a feminine voice beside her and she turned to find Narcissa Malfoy there wearing a long dark cloak over a fur cowl and holding an umbrella delicately with gloved hands. She looked stunning as always, if not a bit aged, and her blonde hair was tucked neatly into an elegant bun.

“Lady Malfoy,” Hermione said a little surprised.

The woman gave her a polite smile. “What brings you out to Diagon Alley in this weather?” She eyed the display Hermione had been looking at. “Shopping for little ones?”

She felt her cheeks heat despite the cold air as the woman’s eyes flicked to Hermione’s abdomen, and she waved off the insinuation quickly.

“Oh no. No. I was looking for ideas for little James,” she told her and understanding dawned on the blonde’s face.

“Ah yes, the newest Potter. I hope they are well,” Narcissa said warmly.

“Yes, very. Though Ginny is still struggling to get him to sleep through the night, so she’s always exhausted,” Hermione told her and Narcissa nodded with a wistful smile.

“Oh, I remember those days fondly,” she replied with a sympathetic wince. “But it passes, and somehow we miss them dearly. Draco, thankfully, was a very happy baby. Hardly ever tantrumed until he was toddling.”

Hermione giggled and privately thought about how he must of made up for it during his school years instead. As if on cue, the man in question appeared beside his mother, sporting a dark, fitted coat and wearing a fur lined winter hat. His grey eyes were piercing in the hazy winter light, but his expression was relaxed.

“Darling, we were just speaking of you,” his mother said as she lovingly reached for his arm. He flashed his mother a sweet smile, then noticed who she was with. He tried to not look wary, but Hermione could see the uneasiness in his eyes. She would be lying if she said she also wasn’t hesitant to speak with him.

Even though they both worked in the Ministry, they hardly crossed paths, just awkward eye contact when they passed by each other or during the rare times their departments collaborated. And neither had brought up their quiet present exchanges she had continued over the years. Hermione figured they were both perfectly fine pretending that he still had no idea who sent packages to him each Christmas, or that she was clueless to who had found her parents.

“Granger,” he greeted with a nod, his tone level to reveal nothing.

“Malfoy,” she said back, just as even. His mother eyed the exchange with calculating eyes and then smiled at her son.

“How about we sit for some tea. Miss Granger, please join us,” she offered and Hermione’s eyes widened.

“Oh no, I couldn’t intrude-”

“Nonsense. Our treat. And it gets us out of the cold for a bit.” With that, the woman spun around, cloak and robes billowing gracefully as she trotted down the street to the very shop Hermione had planned to cozy up in. She stiffly looked up at Malfoy, his nervous eyes darting to meet hers, before blowing out a misty breath in defeat.

“After you,” he said stretching his gloved hand out to gesture her ahead. 

The two entered the shop together and joined Narcissa at the table she had claimed. As the two removed their coats, a shop assistant brought over a fresh pot and conjured three cups. Narcissa thanked the assistant and the three sipped in silence for a moment, the woman obviously enjoying the discomfort radiating off of her son and Hermione.

“So,” she began as she placed her cup down daintily, “besides the little Potter child, what new events have transpired?”

Hermione’s eyebrows scrunched over her cup as she sipped and she licked her lips thoughtfully as she set it down. “Well, we just attended the Longbottom wedding recently.”

“Oh yes. In August, if I remember correctly,” Narcissa said conversationally and Hermione nodded. “Was it lovely?”

“Yes, I believe so, though I’ve only been to a handful of weddings, so I’m not well versed in what all they entail.”

“Are you not engaged yet yourself?” Narcissa asked boldly, and Draco choked a bit on his tea. Hermione blushed and shook her head, holding up her ring hand.

“No. There have been a lot of changes in my life lately. If it happens, it happens, but I’m in no hurry.”

“Ah, I forget muggles tend to be a little more...untraditional about marriage. It’s endearing that Mr. Weasley is respecting your culture,” Narcissa said. She wasn’t condescending, though her tone seemed unamused.

“Yes, well, we both just recently fell into more comfortable paces with our new careers, and I have been leaving the country a lot recently. We have spoken at length about it, but I think the timing is just not right,” Hermione clipped trying not to sound miffed. She then looked over to Draco who had remained silent but present, his hair a bit tousled without his hat. “Congratulations on your engagement, by the way.”

“Thank you,” he said politely.

“We are thinking a spring wedding,” Narcissa said dreamily, laying a hand on her son’s arm and obviously smitten with the topic. “Can you imagine the beauty Astoria will be? Walking down the garden path at the manor, everything in full bloom.”

Hermione smiled brightly, agreeing that it would be a lovely sight. “I can imagine it will be a perfect day.” She could see Draco roll his eyes a bit at it all, but she knew from the pictures in the Daily Prophet that he was just as excited, his warm expression always on his beautiful fiance.

“Do you think your parents will take well to you possibly marrying into the wizarding world?” Narcissa asked bluntly. Hermione and Draco shared a glance at the mentioning of her parents but he looked away quickly.

“It’s probably not what they had in mind, but they’ve warmed to the possibility.” Hermione wished the blonde would stop with the personal questions. Draco seemed to have the same idea.

“Granger’s parents are a bit of a sensitive topic, Mother,” he told her gently, and the woman met his eyes. A second of silent conversation passed between them and then she tsked.

“Forgive me, I forgot that you were newly reunited,” she aimed at the brunette, and Hermione nodded.

“Yes, they’ve just recently moved back to England,” she informed Narcissa while the woman finished her tea.

“It’s a shame that it took so long to restore their memories. How lucky they are to have such an intelligent daughter for a witch.” Hermione could feel Draco’s eyes darting back and forth between her and his mother, silently watching the conversation unfold and unsure of what his mother might say.

“It was tricky,” Hermione admitted, choosing her words thoughtfully. “But I was thorough. I’m just glad to have my family back in London this year for Christmas.”

“Yes, how lucky you are to have found them,” Narcissa remarked, and then looked over at her son pointedly. “Wouldn’t you say, Draco?”

Draco decided to keep his eyes on his cup as he took a drink, the discomfort obvious. “We are rather lucky as well, having Father return to us in such a timely manner and being home for the holidays these last couple of years. I would say that,” he glanced at Hermione again before settling a look on his mother, “we _all_ have a lot to be thankful for regarding family.”

Narcissa opened her mouth to continue the conversation, but a well dressed wizard had approached their table, snow dusting his cloak. “Lady Malfoy,” he said with a short bow. “Forgive my interrupting.”

“Nonsense,” she told him as she stood and then looked to Hermione as she put on her cloak. “So sorry to cut our meeting short, but I have business with the Ministry at the moment.”

Hermione and Draco stood as well. “Thank you for the tea, Lady Malfoy.”

“Of course, and please send my regards to the Potters. Darling, feel free to catch up with me once you’ve said your goodbyes to Miss Granger.” And with that, she exited the tea shop with the wizard trailing behind. Hermione let out a silent sigh, a bit relieved the witch and her questions were gone, and then turned to Draco.

“Forgive my mother,” he told her. “She can be quite the gossip, and she has her nose in everything. Annoyingly, she finds it entertaining to watch people squirm.”

Hermione smiled warmly at him and sat back down. Draco reluctantly sat as well. 

“It’s okay. She was perfectly polite, regardless. She’s very excited for your upcoming wedding, I see.”

Draco groaned dramatically as he leaned on the table. “She hasn’t stopped talking about it since I proposed. You’d think _she_ was the one getting married.” Hermione laughed.

“I suppose it’s every mother’s dream to be at this stage. Mine has actually hinted a few times that she’d be excited to see me engaged soon despite everything, and I thought Molly would never sleep again once George and Ginny started planning their weddings back to back.” Hermione pointed a finger at him. “Just you wait, it gets worse when they start wanting grandchildren.”

“Don’t give my mother any ideas. I’m not too keen on the idea of any Malfoy children being born right now,” he told her as he poured them both a fresh cup of tea. Hermione’s brows lifted.

“You don’t-”

“I’d rather not delve into that, honestly,” he stopped her and then changed topics. “How’s the change in departments?” 

Hermione sipped at her fresh cup letting the warmth fill her as she shrugged. She felt she had given the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures all she could, and took a month of leave after restoring her parents’ memories completely to spend time with them in Australia. Once back in London, with plans for them to move back after settling their affairs, she had decided to switch to the MLE.

“It’s actually a lot less time consuming, if you can imagine. But I think I’m also finally at a place in my life where I don’t need the distractions as much,” she admitted, her eyes on her cup. He nodded in understanding. “How’s your father, by the way?”

Draco looked at her for a moment, his expression playfully suspicious, but Hermione caught the perceptiveness in his eyes. “He’s well. A lot more like himself, but also...different.”

“A good different?” she asked him and he smiled as he lifted his cup to his lips.

“A good different.”

Draco cocked his head to the side and Hermione held his gaze, the silence between them swelling. Finally he cleared his throat and glanced off into the shop. She leaned her elbows on the table and propped her chin in her hands.

“You’re different, too,” she told him.

“Am I?” he asked and she nodded. 

“I’m glad we’ve learned to speak civilly with each other. It’s a shame, though. All those wasted years in school. We could’ve had quite the friendship don’t you think?” She smirked at the look he gave her, as if she’d grown a second head.

“Oh yes, my reputation would’ve soared with me being friends with a-“

“Muggleborn?” she suggested and his face flushed, a bit miffed.

“A _Gryffindor_,” he corrected crossing his arms. Her smile widened at his immaturity. Some things never changed.

“But you wanted to be friends with Harry once,” she teased him.

“And look how that turned out,” he replied in a bland tone and she giggled. “Though, I’ll admit, if things had gone differently, we probably would’ve been head boy and girl.”

“See? It was fate,” she exclaimed.

“For us to be friends?”

“For you to be nice to me,” she joked and he laughed outright. Draco then scooted back in his chair and stood.

“Walk with me?” he asked her as he threw on his coat. She got up and grabbed hers as well.

“I don’t know. Will your reputation survive it?” He threw a snooty look at her as he pulled on his hat, but he offered his arm for her regardless.

Hermione didn’t release it as they walked slowly together in the cold, both watching the snow falling around them. Neither said a word at first and it was just like all those years before, when they’d just finished their exams and had a real conversation for the first time. Now in the middle of Diagon Alley, they could only reflect on how bizarre it was that, after everything, they were in this moment to begin with. 

“Hermione,” Draco said quietly after a bit, and she glanced at him thinking it sounded awfully weird to hear her first name in his voice. “Why have you forgiven me?”

“Bold of you to assume I have,” she nudged him playfully, but the questioned surprised her a bit. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, the air a steady fog in front of them. 

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “I think...I think that I want to be the kind of person who doesn’t hold grudges. Grudges are…”

“Exhausting,” he breathed out and she nodded.

“And it’s easy to hold grudges. But it’s terrifying to forgive someone.” They came to a stop and Hermione released his arm to face him, looking him square in the eye, her heart in her throat. It was time for them to stop skirting around this conversation. 

“Bravery is about facing something that terrifies us and doing it anyway. I choose to be brave.”

Both stood still, the snow fluttering around them in delicate clumps. People milled about on the street, hurrying with their shopping and oblivious to the bridge being mended between the two. Years of bullying and harsh words, and awful choices and being through a war on opposite sides didn’t matter anymore. This was what forgiveness looked like. Like honesty and vulnerability. Like bravery.

She wasn’t sure how long they stood there just staring. But finally Draco’s face fell into something more resolved as he breathed out a long sigh to release the tension.

“I thought it was you,” he mumbled. She blinked and felt her jaw drop a bit.

“You weren’t sure?” He shrugged at her and smirked playfully.

“Everything you sent me was on muggle paper. And I had a hunch after I spoke with you during our NEWTs. You practically jumped out of your seat when I offered you a jelly slug. But it wasn’t until my father returned home last Christmas, a whole six months sooner than his probation stated, and coincidentally _after_ a certain someone joined the MLE, I was a little more certain.”

“Draco,” she started, but he continued.

“And then there was the year before that, with the unicorn hair in that vial.” He tilted his head at her mockingly with a grin. “I could only wonder who would have easy access to unicorns. Possibly a person who worked with magical creatures? And there was-”

“Okay, I get it!” she stopped him, her cheeks flushed. “I wasn’t as secretive as I’d thought.”

“But that doesn’t answer the most important question,” he said to her and she shook her head in confusion. “Why did you give me those gifts, Granger?”

Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but nothing came out. She tugged on her scarf nervously, unsure how to put it, but he only watched her patiently. She huffed out an embarrassed breath and reached forward to brush a large clump of snow from his shoulder.

“I just remembered how you looked, on Oxford Street. You were like me. Both of us had lost our family, but not like everyone else, and it felt wrong almost to feel so sad about it. But we still did. We still missed them. And I knew that the holidays were going to be hard for everyone, you included, so…”

“So you wanted me to have a good Christmas?” he asked her, his brow knit together skeptically.

“I wanted you to keep your connection with your father alive, even if you didn’t know when you’d see him again.” His face softened a bit, the hard lines looking almost boyish, and she covered her face with her hands and groaned. “It was only supposed to be that one year. But then…” she paused and thought about what he’d done for her, the gratitude still so fresh. She dropped her hands. “Then you went and, and _found them_. I can never repay you for that.”

He shoved his hands into his coat pockets, sniffed, and shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. “You would’ve found them eventually, I only sped things up a bit.” She shook her head at him.

“No. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I kept putting it off and pretending it didn’t exist because I was too guilty to face finding them. You sending me that picture not only gave me no more excuses to go find them, it helped me finally begin to…” she trailed off a bit, biting her lip to calm herself. Then quietly, “It helped me finally begin to heal.”

The silence was thick between them. Draco seemed at a loss for words as he mulled over what she had admitted to him. She watched his grey eyes dart back and forth between hers as she held her breath, waiting for him to say something. Finally, he sagged his shoulders and looked down at their feet, sighing through his nose.

“The Keeper’s Key,” he began, “was charmed to trick it’s wearer into believing that if they took it off, their worst fears would come true. So essentially, it made the one wearing it believe that as long as they wore it, they would be safe. A bit cruel because Christine’s biggest fear was likely losing her brother. But he couldn’t die as long as he wore the crown, and was endlessly haunted by the Obscurus that had attached itself to him.”

Hermione kept quiet, waiting for him to continue. 

“So she didn’t ever remove the ring, even though it would’ve saved him. And it was lost after her death. So he was forever forced to wear that crown, and carry the burden it created, until he could be given the key.”

“Why are you telling me this?” she asked him and he looked at her with a look she couldn’t describe, the tenderness of it making her want to look away.

“Because you and I, we were wearing crowns in a way. The burden of the choices we made, even if at the time we thought they were for the best, they kept carrying on after everything was said and done. We couldn’t get rid of our crowns until someone came along with the key. I kept thinking that if I just kept moving forward with my life, living through the consequences of what I did, that eventually it would become normal again. But it didn’t.”

Hermione nodded. The shame of everything she had done split-second in the war surfacing to her mind, fresh as ever. 

“We couldn’t heal. And it almost felt wrong because, frankly, we both came out less scathed than the rest. But those gifts, those reminders that I was still me, and that I was still a Malfoy, those loosened the crown for me.”

She let his words sink in for a moment, shivering at the cold seeping in through her coat. She thought of how she felt since he found her parents, how she could finally work through pieces of herself she was afraid to face, slow down her busy schedule, and let go of some of the shame and guilt and fear she still carried. It was all still there a bit, and she wasn’t sure if it would ever leave her completely, but in some ways, she was able to truly be herself again.

“Ironic that you and I held each other’s keys,” she muttered, trying to lighten the heavy mood some. He smirked at her and then reached forward to brush snow from her shoulder much like she had done earlier. “Why do you think that is?”

He tilted his head to the side, his expression open and playful, looking much like he did back when they spoke in the courtyard back at Hogwarts.

“You tell me, Granger. You’re the bright one.”

A genuine smile burst on her face, and she reached out to link their arms again, pulling him to continue down the street.

“And don’t you forget it.”

**.oOo.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who read, bookmarked, gave me kudos, subscribed, or just glanced this way. 
> 
> I still can't believe the reception this story received and I'm so touched. You all looked at my writing almost a THOUSAND times. That's crazy to me.
> 
> Thank you for following me on this journey through my first fic. It was a ride. And I can't wait to jump back in with something bigger and more ambitious. But until then, I hope this gave you all a little joy.
> 
> ~Beth

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer:  
All characters and themes of this universe belong to J.K. Rowling.


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